How did we become so insecure?

I always wanted to learn to play the guitar. Singing I got down pat!

Growing up I was always told that I could do anything I set my mind to. I had wonderful parents who encouraged my siblings and I to reach beyond the expectations and face our dreams head first.

Personally, I wanted to be everything. A truck driver so that I could see the country, an archeologist because history fascinates me, a Hospice nurse because the one who came into our lives when my father was dying from cancer was a God send. A social worker to be a beacon in some child’s life, and a teacher to encourage children that you never stop learning.

My personal favorite however, the announcer at the Grand Ol’ Opry. Now go ahead and laugh, I do, but when I was little we would watch the Opry on TV and I would tell my Daddy that I was going to be standing on that stage one of these days. I would announce the latest country stars and sometimes even get to sing on the stage, maybe even with Loretta Lynn!

What happened to going out and chasing those dreams? Why did I stop dreaming I could do more and be more?

We are encouraged since birth by our parents and those who surround us to be the best that we can be. They drill it into our minds that we can do anything possible, but some how, doubt creeps into our lives and we begin to other think and criticize ourselves.

Why?

Why have we become our own worst enemy? Who brought that spark of doubt into our lives and made us believe that nothing is possible?

Are we to work meaningless jobs because we are afraid to go out and pursue the one career that we know we would enjoy doing?  Because we are different than others in looks, race, height, weight,  we can’t accomplish unimaginable things?

I’ve believed that about myself for years now, and as I’ve gotten older, those insecurities have brought me nothing but regret.

I should have become an archeologist who discovered a long lost piece of history. A nurse who was the pillar when a family lost a precious loved one. The social worker, who helped a child and let them know that someone cared. The teacher who brought joy and laughter into learning and encouraged children to follow their dreams.

 I battle my insecurities on a daily basis, but I’m learning how to push away some of that doubt. Maybe one of these days, I’ll be able to accomplish the impossible without the insecurities and the fear of doubt holding me back.

As for being that announcer at the Grand Ol’ Opry… A few years ago my husband Tim and I visited the Rhyman Auditorium and I held back from the tour. I stood on an old piece of the original Opry stage and with head held high (and in an extremely quiet voice) I said, “Welcome to the Grand Ol’ Opry… let ‘er go boys……”

The Southern Hummingbird Cake... a smart and delicious choice!

While going through some online cooking sites, I came across the recipe for a Southern Hummingbird Cake. My first thought was that this cake was going to be extremely sweet. I’m not much on cakes or extremely sweet desserts, but this one peaked my interest and I decided to bake one to see exactly what this cake tasted like. I was not disappointed.

Gathering the ingredients wasn’t too hard for me, I mean I had almost all of the ingredients in the pantry already. Except for crushed pineapples. Now, I wasn’t going to go out and make a special trip for one item, and I had chunked pineapples in the pantry and improvised and just chopped up the pineapples chunks. It works for me.

As most cake batters do, this one calls for vegetable oil. If you’ve ever had any type of dessert that I’ve made, it doesn’t contain vegetable oil. I use apple sauce for a substitute. Just use the same amount of apple sauce as it calls for oil. Works great and gives your cakes an additional flavor and helps in keeping the cakes moist.

I topped my hummingbird cake with homemade cream cheese frosting and added pecans to the top. I'm not the best cake icer, and having a husband rushing you because they want to try it doesn't help.

Another side note before baking this cake, make sure that you have a large mixing bowl. I don’t bake often, and my Bybee bowl generally works for anything I make, but this recipe calls for you to mix your wet ingredients into the dry. I found out that a large mixing bowl would work much better and make it easier on you than trying to mix the batter in a normal size bowl and keeping the batter from spilling over the edges. Luckily I managed to make it all fit without any spills.

The recipe I found called for the batter to be divided into three small round baking pans to make a three tiered cake. The non-baker here doesn’t own round baking pans, but I do happen to own something that most people over look now days, a bunt pan! I probably use mine more than most, seeming as it’s one of the few baking utensils I own. Just spray a little baking spray, or butter the bunt pan up, dust a little flour and you are good to go.

This was one of the best cakes that I’ve had in a long time. It was moist and had a wonderful flavor, and the homemade cream cheese frosting just added that extra zip that all desserts need. Not to mention the house smelled wonderful while baking.

However, this would be a recipe to dig out for special occasions; reunions, holidays, birthdays. It is extremely rich, but delicious. Don’t just take my word for it though, make one for yourself and you will understand. I hope you enjoy this cake as well as my household, and a friend I shared the cake with. This will be my new go to cake recipe. Enjoy!

Luke 6:38 - Give, and it shall be given unto you; good measure, pressed down, and shaken together, and running over, shall men give into your bosom. For with the same measure that ye mete withal it shall be measured to you again.

Luckily I had all the ingredients on hand. Like I mentioned in the article, I improvised with the chunked pineapples and substituted the oil for apple sauce. I used fresh eggs I get from my sister and they were so pretty I hated to crack them open, but for the sake of the cake, I did.

Southern Hummingbird Cake

Ingredients

3 cups all-purpose flour

2 cups granulated sugar

1 teaspoon baking soda

1 teaspoon baking powder

1 teaspoon salt

1 ½ teaspoons ground cinnamon

3 eggs

1 cup vegetable oil

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

1 (8-ounces) can crushed pineapple, undrained

3 (about 2cups) ripe bananas, mashed

1 cup roasted pecans, finely chopped

Cream Cheese frosting

Instructions

Preheat oven to 350 degrees F. Prepare three 9-inch cake pans by spraying with baking spray or buttering and lightly flouring.

Whisk together the flour, sugar, baking soda
a, baking powder, salt and ground cinnamon in a large bowl. Set aside.

Cream together the eggs, oil, vanilla extract, pineapple, mashed bananas, and finely chopped pecans in another large bowl. Stir the egg mixture into the flour mixture until just combined. Evenly divide the batter between the three prepared pans and bake for about 20 to 25 minutes, or until a toothpick or skewer inserted in the center of the cake comes out clean.

Remove from the oven and allow to cool for about 10 minutes. Turn cakes onto wire rack and allow to cool completely before frosting with cream cheese frosting.

Cream Cheese Frosting

½ cup butter, softened

8 ounces cream cheese

4 cups confectioner’s sugar

2 teaspoons vanilla extract

Beat softened butter and cream cheese until well blended.

Add powdered sugar and vanilla. Beat until creamy.

Note: Since I baked my cake in a bunt pan, I let it bake for 45 minutes and checked it. Make sure you compensate for the type of pan you are using.

This recipe makes a thick rich batter. I wasn't sure it was all going to fit in my trusty old bunt pan.

The Sweet Smell of Summer

  Growing up my family had a different definition of summer vacation. We didn't travel, never went to the beach or spent the weekend in Tennessee. My first time traveling out of state was on my Senior Trip and last summer was my first time seeing the ocean. 
  Now a lot of people would think that our summers were just horrible and boring. Not going on vacation? Me on the other hand, I'm glad we spent our summers at home and with our family. 
  Young or old, usually everyone in the family spent most of the summer either in the garden or in the kitchen. You were either picking, stringing, snapping or shucking outside, or pickling, peeling and canning on the inside.
  My favorite was always stringing the green beans and I still enjoy it to this day. Just not with as much enthusiasm as I use to have.
  But out of all of that, my favorite part of summer was walking into my Granny Mary's house and smelling cinnamon. You see, the smell of cinnamon meant that she was baking bread, and not just any bread, Zucchini bread. 
  Mmm! That smell meant that either she had already baked the bread and was sitting it out to cool, or it was in the oven just waiting on us grandkids to get a warm slice.
  Sometimes Granny would let us help her in the kitchen. Maybe grate the zucchini or break up the walnuts that she put in her bread. Most times we made too big of a mess and she would shoo us out to the front porch. 
  That was fine with me. From the porch you could look in and see those two beautiful brown loves of perfection cooling on the counter top. That first bite of warm zucchini bread was pure love, and to wash it down with a cold glass of milk was just perfection!
  Now that my Granny Mary has passed on, I make sure to bake a few loaves of Zucchini bread every summer. I've changed the recipe a bit over the years, but every once in a while, I'll make it using her recipe and it brings back all those childhood memories of summer that can't be brought back. Those memories are better than any vacation I could have ever taken.
  Usually, if my husband leaves any left, I share the bread with family and friends. You see, to me, I'm not only sharing a part of my childhood with you, I'm sharing a slice of love, just like Granny Mary.

Ingredients all laid out and ready to go! 

Meg's Zucchini Bread

3 eggs

3 tsp vanilla

1 c. applesauce

2 1/2 c. sugar

3 c. flour

1 tsp salt

1 tsp soda

1/2 tsp baking powder

3 tsp cinnamon

1/2 c. chopped nuts (walnuts or pecans)

1/2 c. dried cranberries or raisins

2 c. grated zucchini

In a large bowl beat together eggs, vanilla, applesauce, sugar and cinnamon until combined. In a separate bowl mix your dry ingredients together; flour, salt, soda, baking powder. Stir in zucchini, nuts and cranberries into the wet mixture and gradually stir in your dry ingredients until combined. Bake at 350º for 1 hour in greased loaf pan, or until a tooth pick comes out clean. Let cool. Makes two loaves.

Fresh baked loaves of Zucchini bread I made last night. Delicious!

Learning through loss

Back last summer I learned that my biological father, Johnny was diagnosed with lung cancer. This was such a shock to me. My dad Kenneth, who raised me since birth, passed away from lung cancer in 2002 and learning that Johnny had cancer as well nearly broke me down. 

I didn't know what to say, what to do. Here was this man who is a part of me, and we didn't really know each other.
So for a few weeks I'd randomly go out and sit on the back porch with him and we'd talk. Well, he'd talk and I would sit and listen. How sad that a daughter doesn't know her father.

I learned that when he was growing up, that he lived in a house just down the road from the first house Timmy and I lived in when we got married. That my love of the dirt track comes from him since he use to race. I realized that we smile and laugh alike, and that deep down, I truly did love him.

Johnny is on the far right. This was taken during his dirt track racing days. Notice the guy on the left holding the checkered flag? 

I tried to fight that part of me for a long time. Here is this man who calls just a few months after my daddy passed away to tell me that he was my father. To a 17 year old this is heart breaking and unacceptable. I didn't want to know him. Why would I? After all of these years here is this stranger who comes into my life and wants to be a part of it. How is that acceptable? 

But now, that he's passed away, I'm ashamed of the way I treated him. I shunned him because I didn't want to accept him, and when I was able to accept the fact that he was my father and that no matter what I wanted or thought, that he would always be my father, it was too late. 

Two weeks before he passed away of a heart attack, I gave him a letter. I wish I had that letter here to share with you, but his wife Betty has it. But I started the letter off something like this - 

Dear Johnny - or dad,

I'm not really sure what I should call you. I get so confused. . .

I told him that I had said things that I regretted. That my biggest regret was not getting to know him, my family, my brothers and sisters. I told him about myself. How I love old movies and that I had always felt that a part of me was missing and that spot was filled when I found out about my older brother who shares the same birthday as me. I told him about my life growing up; how I never needed anything and that my dad was my world.

But then I opened up a part of my heart and soul and told him how I felt about him. I told him that no matter, I had always loved him, I just fought that love. I felt as though I was cheating my dad by loving him as well, but that I had realized that there was enough love in me to share with him as well. That I had stood by my dads side while he fought his battle with cancer and that I would stand by his side as well. That if he feel, I'd be there to pick him up no matter what. 

When I handed him that note, I hugged him, kissed him on the cheek and told him to "read this after I leave. I can't say out loud what I can put into words. I love you." Then I got in the car and left. 

A few weeks later I received a voice mail and all it said was, "Megan, its your sister Penny. Please call me back." I knew. And I lost it.  I had lost a part of me that I never really got a chance to know. I lost so much, yet gained so much in the end.

I gained the love of a sister (Penny). Someone that I can call and talk to about him if I need to. I gained a family that helped me get through the loss. Brothers and sisters whom I barely knew, aunts, uncles and cousins who accepted me into their family. I gained love at the same time that I lost a chunk of myself. Do you understand what I mean? It so hard to put into words. 

Johnny with me at my High School graduation.

But he was there at things that my dad wasn't able to be at. He was at my high school graduation, at my proms and even though I tried to fight it, he was there if I needed him. Since he's passed, my mom has told me a lot of things that I needed to know. About why he wasn't a part of my life growing up and why she made the decisions she made. Even though I didn't understand when I first found out, I understand her choices now, and I don't regret one minute of my life so far.

Why should we regret the life we've lived when we can't go back and change the past? All we can do is learn from our mistakes and use them as a foundation for a better, stronger, smarter future. 

This August will be a year since he's been gone. This November will be 11 years since my dad Kenneth passed away. It's so hard to accept, but all I know is that through God, all things are possible. I believe Johnny loved me for me no matter what. And in all honesty, I love him too. 

Catching up.... not yet

It feels like forever since I've taken the time to post something! I constantly talk about how busy my life is, but honestly, what would it hurt for me to take ten minutes out of my day and blog a bit.

My life has changed drastically over the past few months and I would like to catch everyone up to speed... but not today. As I said before my excuse is that I am always so busy. I'll gather up my thoughts, make a few notes and get back with you tomorrow!

I promise! But until then, here's one of my latest pictures... Gotta love fall in Kentucky!

View from the Roberts Cemetery in Irvine, Kentucky. October 14, 2012

Getting back to nature one fish at a time

Me and my bluegill!

 I've never been much of a fisherman, well in my case fisherwoman, but that all changed four years ago. I married an avid fisher. Oh, boy!

  I don't like the smell of fish, I refuse to take them off of the hooks, especially after my husband informed me that some of them will cut you with their… well, I wasn't paying that much attention. Not to mention the fact that  I apologize to all the worms that I put on the hook. They didn't do anything, but that's just the circle of life. 

   A few weeks ago, against me protesting, my husband went out and bought our fishing license. He said that now I didn't have an excuse not to go with him. Shoot fire!  Hey, I tried.

   So the next morning he wakes me up at the crack of dawn to drive 100 miles in the middle of nowhere to this little pond that might be as big as one of those 4 foot above ground pools. Did I mention it was in the middle of nowhere?

   Of course I wasn't going unprepared. I took my fold out chair, a book, my purple fishing pole, and of course my camera. 

   It was early and kinda chilly and I just knew that I wasn't going to like this whole fishing experience, until I caught the first fish. That's right! My line had barely touched water when I saw that floater go under. 

  Now I was excited! Timmy is always catching the large fish, while I catch what he deems as bait. It didn't matter that my fish was only about a pound, give or take a few ounces. Okay, take a few ounces, but I had caught a fish, I still wasn't taking it off the hook though. 

   After a few hours of catching blue gill and releasing them ( I probably caught the same fish over and over again), I got bored. I didn't feel like reading, so I picked up my camera and started walking around. 

   I took pictures of wild flowers and clover and everything that caught my eye. I probably wandered around these woods for a good hour. On our way back to civilization (Okay, it wasn't that far out in the middle of nowhere. This is a fishing tale, we are suppose to exaggerate) Timmy asked if I enjoyed fishing. 

   My answer, "Yep, as long as I get to catch the first fish and take my camera." Looks like I'll be fishing a lot this summer. 

Timmy sitting at the pond.

   Herbert Hoover once said, "Fishing is much more than fish. It is the great occasion when we may return to the fine simplicity of our forefathers." To this I would add, and the beauty of Mother Nature.

More than a name...

Top: My five year old nephew asking questions about life.
Bottom: Finding the name on the traveling wall.

The lawn was crowded, but you would never know. A few whispers could be heard along with the shuffling of feet, the snapping of hundreds of American flags whipping in the wind, and the silent sobs of an American hero.

He was an older gentleman who had on a black Veterans cap, an American flag on his shirt and as I looked up, I could see the tears roll down his face. He was reaching out to a memory, a memory he could touch with the tips of his fingers. A name of a lost comrade, friend, brother, cousin, hero. 

It was a name on the Vietnam Traveling Memorial Wall on EKUs Campus. Three hundred feet of names to remind us of the great sacrifices that were made during the Vietnam War. They say it was “made for the purpose of helping heal and rekindle friendships and to allow people the opportunity to visit loved ones who otherwise may not be able to make the trip to Washington.” 

I found the name of my dad’s cousin, Farris Lee Richardson, and couldn’t help but reach out and run my finger tips over his name. He was a Sergeant in the 101st Airborn Divison. He was only 20 years old when he was killed in action in March of 1968.  

Now, he is a name on a wall, a memory of someone I’ve never even met, but someone whom I hold in the greatest of respect. I couldn’t help the tears. 

It was a moment that even my five year old nephew, William, knew had to be respected. A time to be quiet. He whispered questions to my mom, “Nan, what is this?” “Are they in heaven?” “Everything is good in heaven, so are they having fun?” 

When we walked by the traveling museum he saw a pair of combat boots and asked me if those belong to one of the soldiers “who are with Jesus?”

“Maybe, but he doesn’t need them in Heaven.”

As we made our way through the visitors, I told mom that even though I’ve been to D.C. and seen the original wall, that this was something that every American should see. Visual proof of what these men sacrificed for our country, our families, and our future.

I am proud to be an American. Proud to say that I have family members who have fought and some who have died for their country. Because of the sacrifice of these men and those before them, and those men and women who are fighting today, I am able to write this and say thank you and God Bless.